“Like me, you mean.”
I sat up. “No! That’s not what I meant and you know it. What you did was very honourable and respectable within the means you had available to you. But I had the chance to do something more with my life, and I took it.”
“You have changed,” Ammamma said. She looked sad. “You talk complicated talk. I don’t understand you anymore.”
“Ammamma, I am the same person I was. It is just the exterior that has changed. I am still the Pullamma of old.”
Ammamma appeared unconvinced, so I just gave her a hug. Not all things in life could fit into prescribed patterns. “I love you anyway.”
“Oh you!” She pushed me away, a little flustered. “You and your citified ways.” But she was smiling.
“What I don’t understand is how Srikar’s marriage to... came about.” I know Kondal Rao had blackmailed Srikar, but how had Ammamma got involved?
“That was my fault.” A teardrop made its way down her cheek.
“Don’t,” I said. Ammamma had shed enough tears on my behalf to last a lifetime.
She let out a heartfelt sigh. “I thought I was doing the best for your son.” She gripped my shoulders. “I never believed that you had run away with another man. Not for a single minute.” Her lips tightened, the wrinkles around her mouth bunching up. “When Lata came to me for shelter after her in-laws threw her out, I talked to the bank to take my house and give me money for Lata’s dowry, but they refused.”
Probably Kondal Rao’s doing. It wasn’t inconceivable that he’d also paid Lata’s in-laws to throw her out.
Ammamma looked remorseful. “It’s not right that a married girl continue to live in her birth home. And the infant still needed taking care of. After everything that went on with Lata, her in-laws accusing her of barrenness, then throwing her out on the streets, I felt maybe I had been too harsh with her. I tried to make up for her misfortunes by arranging her wedding to Srikar.”
My husband and my sister! Though I knew it wasn’t a real marriage, I still couldn’t bear to think of them living together, raising my son together.
Ammamma continued, “This was also my way of making sure your son was loved. How could I trust my great-grandchild with a stranger?”
Put that way, it made sense. Not that ‘sense’ made it any less painful.
“And how does she repay me? By never letting me see my great-grandchild. She won’t come to the village, she won’t let me visit.”
“Did Srikar’s grandmother suggest this alliance?” I asked.
Ammamma looked startled. “How did you know?”
Another round to Kondal Rao.
Chapter 49
Return of the Goddess
Before I knew it, I was back where I’d left off. People started to queue up before the temple bells had tolled, before the birds had roused. They waited patiently in line till I was ready to grant them audience. They came in bullock carts, on tractors, on bursting-at-the-seams State Transport buses. In cars, in three-wheel tempos, and on bicycles. They came to see for themselves the miraculous rebirth of their Goddess. A slightly different avatar, but Ammavaru nonetheless.
I no longer limited myself to Mangalagiri or Gadwal cottons – these were fine saris for when I turned sixty, but for now I’d wear whatever I chose. The love of my family might have forced me back here, but I was damned if I would be cowed.
Kondal Rao was not impressed with my little bursts of defiance.
Because I was more ‘mod’ now – with my fancy haircut and un-oiled hair, and owing to my years of seeing patients, I exuded an authority I had not previously had. I was also older and sadly wiser, and therefore able to deal with Kondal Rao a little better.
“Start oiling your hair again,” he ordered. “Your hair looks like discoloured straw.”
“No.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean, no?”
“Never heard that word before, Politician garu? It means I get to decide what to do with my hair.”
His jaw dropped at my defiance, but I had to hand it to the man. Without missing a beat, he ordered, “Very well, you will grow it back. We can pretend your hair is short because you offered it to the Lord of the Seven Hills.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” I said, staring him in the eye. “Don’t confuse my love for my family for weakness. I will not be controlled by you.”
His face darkened, but I was past the point of caring. This was the man who had denied me my son and my husband.
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It was a month into Goddess-hood my third time around, and I could see no way out. The expected elections hadn't been called because the Chief Minister had managed to cobble together enough support. Janaki aunty had informed Dr. Govardhan not to expect me back. She was considering selling my share of the medical practice to another doctor because Dr. Govardhan was unable to handle the patient load by himself. This scared me, because it was as good as admitting that she did not expect me to escape Kondal Rao’s clutches.
The one good thing that had come out of this mess was that Aunty was now living with Srikar. After so many years of being denied her son, she deserved every bit of happiness. Being happy for her didn’t stop me from missing her. And Srikar. And the son I’d never met. How I wanted to hold him in my arms. But I was in the village tending to my devotees, and Lata was in the city playing house with my family. I talked often to Aunty, and occasionally with Srikar, too. Lata was another story.
Deciding to give it another try, I called Srikar’s house. Lata picked up. “Why are you harassing us like this?” she screamed.
“Just give me my son,” I begged. “That’s all I ask of you.”
“I put in all the effort, bring him up to this age, and now you want to reap the benefits?”
“Please, Lata.”
“If you go after Pullaiyya, Kondal Rao will not leave Ammamma alone. You know that. Are you willing to take that risk?”
I was speechless.
“Did you hear me?” Her voice was screechy.
“Kondal Rao couldn’t care less about your petty issues. He forced me back to the village only because the government was in danger of collapsing. He’s keeping me around just in case. As long as I stay put, Ammamma’s safe.”
“He’ll never let you get away.” Lata sounded triumphant.
“Maybe not.” I wasn’t about to tell her I would never give up trying. “But I can still raise my son.” I took a deep breath. “Lata, I’ll give you as much money as you want.”
“I thought you’d never touch the Goddess’s money,” Lata mocked. “Never isn’t such a long time, is it, big sister?”
“I’m talking about my own earnings. The money I sent Ammamma over the years is gathering dust.”
“You’re talking about your doctor money.”
“Yes, I –”
“No.” She hung up.
I wished I knew what to do. I didn’t know how to force the issue. There was no hope of Malli interceding, either. She paid a quick visit to the Goddess with her in-laws; her in-laws would not allow a personal visit.
This caused Ammamma deep pain. “My granddaughters are so different,” she lamented. “Lata’s tongue is like a knife, slicing its way through life. And look at Malli. Silly face. Not a proper tongue in her mouth.”
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As I sat on my freshly polished silver throne – courtesy Kondal Rao – a stream of people walked past, touching my feet, seeking blessings, easing themselves of their burdens. I mechanically touched each of their heads, and gave them prasadam. Kondal Rao had arranged for a couple of security guards, whether to keep the lines moving, or me in line, I couldn’t tell.
“Pullamma.”
I jerked up in shock and found myself looking into Lata’s eyes. Next to her stood Srikar. Between the two, below the line of my vision, was a child. But I dared not lower my head, or my guard. I gave Srikar a quick glance, willing him to explain. With so many devotees milling about, I was not in a position to questio
n him. I was aware they were holding up the line of devotees; no one spent more than a minute with me in order to ensure everyone got an audience.
Srikar had an expression in his eyes I could not interpret. He inclined his head slightly at the little boy by his side and nodded.
My son!
My priest, Satyam, was considering me with speculation, so I closed my eyes and desperately willed myself to drain all emotion. When I opened my eyes again, I was calm.
I let Srikar walk past, though Satyam’s sharp eyes were trained on me; how could I commit the sacrilege of blessing my own husband? And then I put my hand on my child’s head, touching him for the very first time. My hand trembled. I couldn’t help it. I bit down hard on my lip, trying not to let my mouth quiver. I struggled not to look at my child’s face; if I did, I knew I would break down, yard-full of devotees or not. I trained my glance at his ear as he stood directly in front of me, though I craved to pull him into my arms and never let go.
“Move,” the security guard said, raising his stick to my son.
“No!” I said sharply.
The security guard froze. I had never spoken out loud during darsanams. Srikar’s eyes widened in horror, but Lata’s smile bordered on the malicious. Satyam, the priest, looked shocked. I gave Srikar what I hoped was a calm smile, but the speculative look had not left Satyam; whoever said women were gossipy had never had the occasion to cross paths with my priest.
Ammamma sat in her chair across the room, but I dared not glance at her, either. She had not called a halt to the proceedings, probably because we could not afford to draw attention to the incident. She did, however, get up and leave the room soon after my husband and son left.
The next few hours were excruciating. The stream of people was endless. The invisible band around my head tightened to the point I was afraid my head would burst. After the last devotee had left, I wearily found my way back to my private quarters. I waved away a few hopeful looking devotees; some days I had dinner with a select few, but today I was too agitated.
“What happened wasn’t good,” Ammamma said, sounding anxious. “First time back in the village in years, and see the stunt she pulls.”
I collapsed on the bed. “How could he do this to me? To have me meet my son in public, that too, without warning.”
Ammamma snorted. “You are a fool if you think Srikar had a say in this.”
The whole village had seen Lata with Srikar and Pullaiyya, establishing them as a family. No question of me trying to lay claim to my husband and son now.
“Ammamma,” I said, anxious. “Do you think people heard me when I spoke out loud during the darsanam?”
“Since Srikar and Lata were directly in front of you, I don’t think so. It was too noisy.”
“But the security guard and the priest did.”
“I can talk to the guard. But the priest...” Ammamma sighed. “Just be careful of that man. Anyway, right now, Lata is the bigger worry. I don’t know how something that evil could have come from the womb of a daughter of mine.”
“Pullamma!” Srikar stormed in.
I sat up, heart thundering. If he was here, my son couldn’t be far behind.
But it was just Srikar, dragging Lata along. He shoved her into a chair. “Pullamma, I am so sorry,” he said. “If I’d known she would pull something like this, I would never have agreed to come. I came only because she said that it was time you met Pullaiyya.”
“Where is my son?”
“You may have given birth to him,” Lata snarled, “but he is mine.”
“Lata!” Srikar shouted.
I’d never thought I would live to see Srikar lose control. His eyes were rimmed red, and the cords in his neck stood out. “You lied to me. You claimed it was time Pullaiyya got to know his mother.”
“I will never let Pullamma have him,” Lata said, eyes blazing. “Never.”
“Lata!” Srikar said.
“When you needed me, you used me. Now, when your precious Pullamma shows up, you're ready to throw me aside. How noble!”
Srikar threw a quick look at Ammamma, face reddening. “We’ll discuss this later. Let’s go.”
She gripped the sides of her chair. Srikar knelt by her chair and said something to her. She shook her head, her lips set in a stubborn line.
I watched them, feeling sharp envy for the intimacy their relationship allowed them.
“This is my mother’s home,” Lata said. “I’m sure my family is eager for my company. You go take care of our son. I’ll come in a little bit.”
Srikar took a deep breath. I could tell he was struggling for control. “Pullamma, I was happy when Lata said she was ready for Pullaiyya to meet you.” He gave Lata an angry look. “We were going to slip into your private quarters when all of a sudden she took Pullaiyya to join the darsanam line, and waved me over. I couldn’t avoid it without causing a scene.” He was remorseful. “I wish you could have met your son in a better manner.”
“I didn’t even get a good look at him.” I knew the yearning in my voice was giving me away. “I wish –”
“What, hanh?” Lata spat out, “What do you wish? To deny your son the love of his mother?”
Before I knew it, I’d reached across and given Lata a hard slap.
“How dare you!” Lata shrieked, massaging her face. She jumped to her feet, fists clenched.
“Why do you hate Pullamma so much?” Ammamma asked despairingly.
“You took my life away,” she shouted, jabbing a finger at Ammamma. “You did not let me study, you made me marry when I didn’t want to, that too, to a man I detested,” she said, enumerating on her fingers. “Pullamma has always been the favoured one. She has the money, the degree, the child. I have nothing.” Lata started to scream. “Do you hear? Nothing!”
“Tea?” a tentative voice said.
All of us whipped around. Sarala stood with a tray of tea and snacks. She looked flustered.
Ammamma flushed a deep red. “Leave it here, please.” She pointed at the table.
How much had Sarala heard? I cringed at the thought of being at the centre of speculation. After she’d left the room, I said to Lata, “You have my son and my husband. Isn’t that enough?”
“Save your godly wisdom for your devotees,” Lata snapped. “Luckily for me, Kondal Rao is still a threat to you. Otherwise Srikar would have gone running to you, tail tucked between his legs. Don’t think I don’t know.”
Srikar’s jaw tightened.
Ammamma said to Srikar, “This is just degenerating. There are still people around. Perhaps you could come back when everyone has had the chance to calm down.”
“You don’t even have the guts to blame me directly,” Lata spat out.
Srikar gave Lata a long look. “Perhaps you are right, Ammamma. I’ll be back.”
I looked as Srikar walked away. How were we ever going to resolve this situation?
“What kind of sister are you to make Pullamma pay for my mistakes?” Ammamma burst out. “You know she’s suffered so much.”
“Poor little doctor Goddess,” Lata mocked.
Chapter 50
Lata Acts Up
Lata stayed for another two hours, looking straight ahead, not responding to Ammamma’s offer of food or water. By the time she left, the two of us were drained.
“I don’t understand Srikar,” I said. “How can he be okay with Lata using our son as a pawn?”
Ammamma sighed. “That’s the problem with honourable men, Child.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because they adhere to a certain code of conduct, they believe everyone else does, too. He probably doesn’t see Lata’s behaviour for what it is. She dropped her head back. “I’m so sorry, Pullamma.”
“What for?”
“I’ve messed up all my granddaughters’ lives.”
“Malli is fine.”
“No thanks to me.”
“You did the best you could, Ammamma. Come, now.” I helped her u
p. “Time for bed.”
She shuffled to her room. I was frightened by how old she looked.
I slumped on the swing in our private courtyard. How could things have gone so wrong?
The doorbell rang. Drowsily, I turned to the wall clock. Only 10:00 p.m. Somehow it felt a lot later. Only Kondal Rao had the bad habit of dropping in at odd hours. God! I hoped it wasn’t him. I had no energy to deal with him tonight. I hurried to the gate before the doorbell woke Ammamma up. I opened the gate to the main courtyard. “Srikar!” I said, aware I’d addressed him by name, instead of the more proper Yemandi.
Srikar raised his eyebrows a fraction at this departure from convention. But he said nothing. I was glad. The older I got, the less conventions seemed to matter. Not that adherence to them had done me much good.
“Is it too late?” He sounded anxious.
“No, no, of course, not.”
Srikar walked in, and behind him – my son!
“What – I mean how –” I stopped as Srikar mouthed ‘later’. I stood in shock, hugging myself as my eyes devoured my son.
“Why don’t we go in?” Srikar said.
My heart hitched. After closing the gate to the courtyard, I followed Srikar and my son in. They settled on the swing in my private courtyard.
My son! I blinked back tears and looked directly at him. Eight years I’d waited for this day. Eight lonely years.
His face was softly rounded, traces of baby fat still visible. He had Srikar’s colour – thank God for that! Long eyelashes, stubborn mouth, pug nose. A lock falling endearingly over his forehead. I trembled with emotion. I had to physically restrain myself from running to him, dragging him into my arms, never letting go.
I settled on the step of the veranda, not daring to say anything. Srikar said gently to my son, “Remember, what I told you? That your mother had to leave you behind with your aunt Lata and me because she had to go away?”
Pullaiyya leaned back in the swing and looked up the sky.
Tell A Thousand Lies Page 26